Yes, you remaining hostile press cheppies sit over thyah in the corner and know your place! Jolly good sheow!!
Having Young Dave and his jolly good chaps back in power, and with a majority - never mind that it’s a smaller one than “Shagger” Major got in 1992 - has gone to their heads rather more rapidly than downing several pints of something very strong in a very short period of time, with the result that several titles look like parodies of themselves this morning - and have given the game away on their real agenda.
Reverse ferreting in no style at all was the Express, which told readers “Cameron: I’ll make Britain greater still … THE SWEETEST VICTORY OF ALL”. Yes, Dave would build on, er, losing our credit rating, making an arse of himself in Europe and elsewhere, and covering it all up with a veneer of PR. And the paper bringing this news to you manages not to let slip that a few days ago it was urging readers to vote for UKIP.
But this was a mere taster: the Murdoch Times, also proclaiming “The ‘sweetest victory’”, projected the intense relief of its owner that he and his pals could carry on exactly as before, perhaps even looking forward to dusting off that bid for 100% of BSkyB and cheering on the Tories as they laid into the hated BBC. And Dave had better remember not to revisit Leveson if he knew what was good for him.
The Mail pretended that its part in the election was merely to reflect what its readers wanted, a favourite claim of the legendarily foul mouthed Paul Dacre. “How Middle England rose up to humiliate pollsters and save the nation from Red Ed … THIS WAS YOUR VICTORY” thundered the headline, while reality was that Dacre, too, was relieved that he was still able to frighten folks into voting as he instructed.
But the pièce de résistance came from the Telegraph, which threw caution to the wind as its hacks and pundits experienced the rapture: “The chosen one” it announced to a grateful readership. For the Tel, Cameron had been selected by some deity to rule over his jolly grateful subjects. He was superior even to a football manager. We had been privileged to share in a veritably biblical experience. Jolly good sheow!